Togo and Benin!

So here is the much anticipated blog entry about my trip through Togo and Benin. In the previous entry I posted many pictures with limited captioning so if you have any questions about them even after this entry please don’t hesitate to ask! Bear with me, its a long one!

Our trip began as most trips in West Africa do... with a three hour wait for a car ride to somewhere. Conscious of the daylight we were losing each and every minute, Sam, Kathryn and I started to devise alternative plans for the evening- all of which did not include crossing the border into Lome, Togo in the middle of the night. In case you did not know, border crossings and border towns are not exactly safe. Partly because of the smuggling of goods, partly because of the amount of traffic both by foot and wheel, and partly because... well they are just scary as a rule. Especially at night.

Our tro ride to Aflao (border town on Ghana’s side) was one of the scariest I have ever been on. Our driver must have realized how late we would be arriving and decided to basically haul ass the whole way there, nearly killing several small children, animals, and us passengers aboard. At one point our car pulled to the side of the road, allowing all the passengers to buy at least 3 loaves of crappy Ghanaian bread. This incident struck me as being hilarious for a number of reasons. The first being, Togo/Benin are known (at least by Peace Corps volunteers) for their baguettes. Obviously these Ghanaians were truly living up to their stereotype of never wanting to try new food or at least new bread. Sam, Kat and I continued to refer to this throughout our trip- especially when we all bought bags of baguettes to smuggle back into Ghana.
We made it to the station just as it was getting dark, and all previous Plan Bs were ignored in the light of befriending a Togolese woman in our car who offered to walk with us to the border. All in all, crossing the border was easy (especially with our previously bought visas) and aside from a pretty stupid and ridiculous decision to trade money, we came out alive and well, though minus a few dollars. Actually, as Kat would say, if that was the worst thing to happen during the rest of the week, then it would be a good trip. As we would later find out, being cheated out of money is the norm of travelling around Togo and Benin. It was going to be a good trip.

With the help of a friendly woman following our money exchange debacle, we made our way to our hotel, as recommended by Casimir, Le Galleon. This hotel marked our first of many random hotel room set ups complete with shower room (where you can shower and sit on the toilet at the same time!). That night we all passed out pretty early, excited to spend the next day eating croissants and baguettes and exploring Lome.
After obtaining directions to the Peace Corps office from our hotel, we made our way through sandy streets scattered with palm trees, realizing that Lome isn’t really that scary, as long as the sun is shining. One chocolate croissant later, we found ourselves at an office about ten times bigger and nicer than our excuse for a building in Accra. We chatted it up with a few volunteers who were there for a diversity meeting (this was also a constant joke of the trip- who has diversity meetings in Peace Corps?!). These volunteers alternated between asking us “why did you come to Togo???” and complimenting us on the Accra mall as if it was our idea. Little do they know how much we actually detest that mall, even moreso now that we know volunteers from Togo make the trip into Ghana for the sole purpose of going to the movie theatre. Seriously?!
We got out of that office pretty fast, determined to prove them wrong about their country. Well, after just two days spent spread throughout 3 towns, I guess I can say that they were right... just not about the Accra mall.
Togo is a crappy litle country. Probably the length of a few football fields, it takes no more than an hour to drive straight through (which is basically what we did on our way back from Benin).

We spent the morning/afternoon wandering around first looking at a pointless monument that brought to mind the giant Black Star monument of Accra, and then moving on to the grand Marche, a bustling market with amazing street food. If Togo (also Benin) has one redeeming quality, it is the street food. Coffee carts, fresh pastries sold on womens heads, baguette sandwiches with avacado spread and sometimes even fresh potato salad, chicken salad with actual lettuce and roasted chicken, spaghetti and meatballs! All for under a dollars worth in CFA’s, I was in heaven!
The market itself reminded me of ghana, except that instead of being trampled by cars, you are constantly dodging motos that constantly zip by within an inch of your face. Another huge difference which I began to notice in Togo and continued into Benin is the absence of hassle. Don’t get me wrong, we were certainly hassled enough over transportation prices (I will get to that). I’m talking more about being constantly bothered- called out for being white. It didn’t happen in the big towns of Togo or Benin, nor in the smaller cities. So, Ghanaians really are just in your face, all the time!
Or.. maybe they did, but it was in French. One of my biggest struggles during the trip was the French. I speak zero French. Honestly, I cannot understand why anyone would even want to. To me, French sounds like the teacher from the Peanuts cartoon- long, fluid, words that all sound the same. Mwa Mwa Mwa-Mwa-Mwa Mwa. I just tune it out, which I admit wasnt all that helpful on this trip. I could sometimes get some inferences from context, also SOME words do sound the same as their obviously superior Italian and Spanish linguistic counterparts. Luckily Kat speaks pretty fluent French or else Sam and I would have probably just been politically incorrect and “hurr hurr hurrd” our way through Francophone Africa. Another running joke/topic of conversation on our trip was the “what if” theory regarding Italy actually colonizing Ethiopia. What would it be like? The options were endless. Also, I would have probably been sent there, had it actually existed. Oh glorious non-existent little Italy of Africa!
Anyway, back to the reality of Francophone Africa, where transportation proved to be the absolute worst. Its not that the actual transportation was bad- aside from all the motos, there really wasnt much difference to the tros and taxis of ghana. The real problem was with the lack of actual stations, the constant haggling, and as we soon began to realize the absolute rip off in price. Unlike ghana, Togo and Benin seemed to run on the principle of two prices. One for the white man, and one for everybody else. This took us a few times of using transportation (and calculating the exchange rates) to figure out.
After Lome we headed towards Togoville, a town across Lake Togo. First we spent some time in Agbodrafo a town sandwiched between the ocean, the lake, and the highway that cuts the two water bodies in half and also runs straight from border to border. Agbodrafo is also a volunteers site, although he was unfortunately at the silly diversity meeting. We wandered around anyway, enjoying the old churches and architecture that didnt look like it was about to crumble at our feet. Apparently ghana has yet to reach Togos level of proper building techniques. After walking around for a bit we made our way to the water where a boat was conveniently waiting for us to board for Togoville. The boat guy immediately overcharged us as we paid approximately the price to cross the water at least 5 times each. We couldnt do much but grumble and get in the boat. The trip across was pretty smooth which is good since I tend to get seasick. As we reached land it was pretty cool to see a massive church sitting up top the hill. By this point it was clear that while ghanaians are very religious, their churches are way inferior to those of Togo/Benin. We mostly attributed this to the French, again thinking about the nonexistant Italiafrica and how pretty those churches would be!
As it was already late in the afternoon, we set about asking for a cheap place to stay as the costs of the day (mostly transport) were already piling up and we realized how fast our money would run out if we kept it up. A random boy led us around the town, first bringing us to a senior high school which was full, then to a cute little compound home whose owner had lost the key to the guestroom, and finally to another compound home where just when we were about to give up and stay at an actual hotel, Pierre (the owner) agreed to let us stay for a 1/3 of the price of any room. Score! We negotiated a bunch of things- a mat to sleep on, bathing water, etc. and then went back into town for dinner. A nice woman made us a legit salad which we ate with some tasty street spaghetti and baguettes. Again, Togo you redeem yourself only with food.
The next morning after being asked for more money (yes after they rip you off, the Togolese have the nerve to ask for a gift) we decided it was finally time to get the hell out of Togo. After negotiating for what seemed like hours we finally paid less (but still too much) for the boat back across. Upon reaching the main road we saw a STC bus, like the ones from ghana, parked alongside the road. We ran across the street and pretty much threw ourselves aboard and rejoiced to find out they were going to Cotonou.
About 15 minutes later we were in Benin. The border crossing was again not difficult and the bus waited for everyone to cross before making its way to Cotonou, a city that is basically the fake capitol of Benin.
Entering the city reminded me a lot of entering Accra: big, dirty, and overcrowded, Cotonou was in everyway Benins version of Accra except for the substitution of motos for cars. Motos everywhere! Our first plan of action was to get to the PC office to aquire some moto helmets. Although we are not allowed to ride motos in ghana, when travelling to other PC countries, we are required to follow their rules. And, in Togo and Benin, volunteers are actually allowed to ride motos, mostly because thats the only way to get around. Upon swearing in they are issued helmets that bring to mind the stormtroopers from Star Wars and are overall pretty badass.
After wandering around Cotonou and finding some delicious tasting yogurt and some kind of lemon-lime drink we made our way to the office. Actually, we were one street over when a Beninoise man yelled “Peace Corps?!” and pointed down the next street. This brings up another major difference that we found in both Togo and Benin. People know Peace Corps. This can be for a number of reasons- Togo and Benin are much smaller countries yet have about the same number of volunteers as ghana- yep they are pretty much sitting on top of each other. Also, I think there are far less NGOs in Togo and Benin... whereas in ghana it is easy for us to be confused with the thousands of white voluntourists that come for a couple weeks to a couple months. The thing that really irks me about this situation is that PC ghana has been around for almost 50 years. We were the first program (they are in the midst of planning tons of stuff for the anniversary) and yet so many ghanaians have no clue what we are or what we do, let alone that we are American. Yes, all American. Im not exaggerating when I say the girl I replaced was thought to be german by more than half my town. Maybe thats a whole other issue though...
Anyway, we found the office and again were blown away by how cool theirs was in comparison. Met a bunch of volunteers who were coincidentally staying in the same hotel as us (thanks to Sinae for the recommendation!) and offered to moto with us there. New to the concept of moto-ing I was unsure exactly how we do it “together”. While I was busy imagining a bunch of motos tied together with rope, our two new Benin PCV friends negotiated prices and the next thing I knew I was holding on for dear life on the back of a strangers moto thanking god for inventing helmets. It really was kind of fun, except for the sudden stops and possibility that the weight of my backpack would finally win and I would be left on my back in the middle of the street.
The Concorde was pretty cool and full to the brim with other Peace Corps volunteers! We met a bunch from Niger and more from Benin. Everyone went to eat/drink at what they called the sunset bar- a bunch of chairs and tables set up right on the ocean. The whole area was actually really cool with almost cobblestone like pathways and lots of shops and eating areas. We got fried fish and lots of side items and sat beside the water watching the sun go down. That night we made plans with a Niger volunteer, Khue, to travel to Ouidah the next morning.
Skipping past the hassle of a rainy morning and more transportation trouble (which was beginning to be commonplace) we made it to Ouidah without too much of a headache. After breakfast- coffee in a giant bowl and a baguette with laughing cow- we made our way to the historical museum which is housed in an old slave trading fort. The tour was in French so Kat tried her best to translate. This was our first taste of Voodoo, which I only then began to realize is still very much alive in the culture of Benin- whereas Juju in Ghana is way more hush-hush. In Benin, voodoo is a central part of their lives, almost like religion in Ghana. We learned from some PCVs in Benin about some actual voodoo stuff that went on in their villages and I again was glad to be placed in ghana where the worst juju Id been exposed to was some decorative wall hangings... no virgin murders or heart beverages... at least, not that I know of.
After the museum we made our way to the python temple... despite my protests (I do not like snakes). I was nominated to be the photographer and tried my best to stay as far away from the snakes as possible. It was very Indiana jones.
There was a funeral going on in another impressive church in the town. We paused to listen to the music and take in our surroundings and then sought out some food. We were left with one main tourist item: the door of no return. After seeing both door of no returns in Ghana, I figured we could skip it, but Im glad we went. We took motos down a dirt path to the ocean, dodging cows (riding motos was never more fun!) and people. The door was actually a large arch right on the sand. First we found a Christian monument and innappropriately posed with our spaceman/stormtrooper helmets. Then we went over to the arch. In Ghana, the door of no return was the actual one the slaves would go through to get to the trading boats. Benins idea of a door of no return was a little more artistic, especially with the strange abstract art on either side of the arch.
Satisfied with our day, we headed back for Cotonou. Ate dinner in an amazing Lebanese restaurant with fellow PCVs and talked to one in particular who later ditched the other Benin PCVs to hang out with us, though now I cant remember her name. Upon hearing the name of my school she told me about a girl in the new group from Elon. Small world.
The next morning we packed up our stuff and prepared to make our way to Ganvie, the stilt village.
That morning was a bit of a crazy time. Sam and I needed to find an ATM because we were quickly running low on funds. We decided to moto together to one while Kat and Khue waited behind. After a terrible moment when the ATM ate my money (Id rather not talk about it) Sam and I attempted to moto back using our limited French. Somehow I ended up crossing a bridge, losing Sam, and yelling at the driver to go back to where we started. We were all pretty freaked out about the whole thing and said we werent allowed to split up again (until our later grand Popo disaster). Anyway we were off to ganvie, Khue travelled with us there again until we parted ways- she went back to Niger, and we spent the night in the stilt village. This was pretty much my favorite part of the trip. A floating town. The market women would paddle around and you call them over to buy whatever you want. Our hotel was pretty awesome, and we made friends with their kitten and monkey. Yes, monkey.
We ate baguettes with potato salad, wine, and pineapple (from a boat!) as we watched the sunset. Yes, it was a fantastic day. Sam and I also splurged on a delicious freshly caught fish dinner. ghana also has a stilt village though I dont know too many people who have actually spent the night there. Waking up in the middle of the night to the call of the fisherman was pretty awesome- sounded something like the cross between monks chanting and some kind of church music. I was pretty sad to leave.
But we were on our way again, to Abomey- home of voodoo! Sams one goal for this trip was to sit on the throne of skulls and see the wall of blood. So a visit to Abomey was essential.
When we got there we wandered around a bit, found the cheapest hotel in our guidebook which could have also doubled for a haunted house. Seriously, probably the sketchiest place I have ever stayed in my life. The lights in the hallways dimmed on and off. There was creepy stuff all over the main room. Our room... well it wasnt bad at all. But the shower room had seen better days. We decided it was an appropriate place to stay in the town of voodoo.
We headed to market and checked out all the monkey skulls, animal pelts, and fetish stuff. Smelled pretty bad. Also we found a guy making sandals from tires (they do this in ghana too) except this guy used belts for straps too and they were super cool! Kat and I both bought a pair. Sam bought a second pair of sandals. Sadly, his pair from Togo fell apart in one day and his pair from Abomey did the same. My sandals howevever are still going strong!
We decided it was time to try the local cuisine, especially since we heard the PCVs talk so much about it the day before. I decided to try Pate (pronounced pot) which is basically like unfermented Banku... so basically like Polenta, but better! Delicious corn based flan like ball served with delicious chicken soup. We picked a good spot and all really enjoyed our lunch.
The remainder of the day was spent getting our feet stuck in mud at a huge temple. We toured around and saw all of Sams favorite things (unfortunately you cant sit on the throne of skulls, its behind glass, but yes, made of real skulls). We ate a dinner of baguettes and oranges at a pretty swanky bar that we were scared of at first for being too expensive with its fancy displays of curtains and such.
The next day we tried to see as many temples/palaces as possible. Basically Abomey was home to many many reigns of kings and they each built their own temples. These were adorned with their respective symbols such as a chameleon, a pineapple, swords, a lion, etc etc. Many of the temples had some kind of historic voodoo story- one was where women were sacrificed to some pretty hungry ants... yeah creepy stuff.
While trying to find the pineapple kings home, we got lost and enlisted the help of a nice old man who took us around. At the pineapple temple we saw Benins version of kente... actually we also saw a lot of the patchwork detailing at the temple of mud the day before... I bought myself a pillowcase with a bunch of the kings symbols on it. It looks a lot like something that would be found in a nursery school, except after touring the main temple I know that they are traditional and pretty cool, for nursery school looking things.
It was stil relatively early when we checked out of the haunted house and tried to get a car to grand Popo. We figured we wanted to spend as little time in Togo as possible and that we should get to Benins border town to make travel the next day easier. I even had a hotel recommendation for a place where the workers dressed like pirates. After a lot of car confusion and waiting around we were off to 3 separate towns where we switched cars and got terribly wet in the unrelentless rain. At the final town we had to switch to motos, and let me tell you, riding a moto in the pouring rain is AWFUL. I was behind Sam and Kat but I could barely see a thing with the rain just pouring down my face. At one point I saw nearly all of Sams leg go into a puddle... yeah it was pretty miserable. When we got off those motos we were told we had to take yet another car along the main road to grand popo, except each one that came did not have space for 3 people. So Sam and I went off together leaving Kat the french speaker alone. Again, not the smartest decision. Somehow Sam and I completely passed through grand popo and ended up close to the border. We had to drop and get a car back, barely missing Kat at the pirate hotel. We didnt end up staying there because it was expensive, but we did get to see the pirates :)
We stayed in a cute little blue place down the street... we called it the jazz hotel because thats what it supposedly had on friday nights. I got to eat Pate for one last time and we celebrated a successful trip in the dark as the power kept going out.
Not much to say about the next day except that we passed through Togo as fast as possible. Bought a bunch of baguettes (which my ghanaian friends actually did like) and caught a tro to Accra.
And that blog readers, was my trip. Obviously leaving out a lot, but thats the basics. And if you actually read all of that, you earned yourself a chocolate croissant!